


Devil's Dance

by birdsandivory



Series: Crossroads [1]
Category: FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Caught in the Act, Cor In A Suit, Corqi, Dancing, Enemy Lovers, Kisses, M/M, Manhandling, Masquerade Ball, Prompto is a cockblock sort of, Reconnaissance, This Is Just A Fun Number, tumblr prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: +++ Loqi is on a reconnaissance mission within the heart of Insomnia, the very Citadel hosting its annual Masquerade Ball.+++ Who better than The Immortal, Cor Leonis, to enter stage right and thwart his plan?





	Devil's Dance

**Author's Note:**

> @thatkanragirl sent me a lovely word prompt to base a drabble off of on Tumblr and this is what I came up with! I do hope you enjoy, as I've been scarce as of late and uploading content rather slowly. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts. <3
> 
> If you have any prompts or requests of your own, please feel free to stop by my [Tumblr](http://birdsandivory.tumblr.com) page and submit. I will get to it as soon as I possibly can!

_"All your acting,_

_Your thin disguise,_

_All your perfectly delivered lies,_

_They don't fool me."_

_\- Dust to Dust, The Civil Wars_

 

* * *

 

How he despised the whole of Insomnia.

There was so much to dislike about iron and steel; the absence of Niflheim’s frigid nature, skyscrapers that loomed and watched over a luminous nightlife — _pleasant weather —_ it was all too much, and with every second he spent within its coveted barrier, the more he wished to stay—

 _...Leave._  The more he wished to leave. 

Reaching up, Loqi adjusted his mask even though there was hardly a need — it was fashioned with treasured velvet of high expense and felt as though it was barely there — however still, tactics disguised as nervous habit were a subtle observational skill that he utilized well. Scanning the crowd, he paid no mind to the Lucian Crown nor his foolish son, his prime target being reconnaissance in this particular instance; intel was, after all, becoming simpler to find within Lucis — Insomnia hardly a task to slip into as of late, what with the King’s ever failing health. 

The annual  _Masquerade Ball_  was teeming with information, and if he happened to be lucky and play his cards just so, he could get what he needed and escape before he could even mull over the possibility of getting caught by—

“Might I have this dance?”

_Him._

Of course, if he  _were_  to be captured and strung up for all of Lucis to see, it would be by the hands of The Immortal. 

 _He_ , whom of which was a troublesome nuisance, intercepting each and every one of the General’s missions without so much as a written warning.  _He_ , broad, strong, and fiercely protective of his king and loyal to all of Lucis;  _he_...looked incredible in a suit.

_Curse the mind of the young and hormonal._

The black mask, so plain and simultaneously striking, did nothing to disguise the magnificence that was Cor Leonis — clad in black silk and yet, an undeniable danger lurked within the depths of the man’s eyes, daring Loqi to refuse his hand. And by the way it was outstretched toward him, several wealthy onlookers finding interest in the very gesture, there was not quite enough room for argument or refusal — no matter how loud his protests would have been. 

His own slender hand, hugged in spiced leather, slid into calloused bare — and he was pulled forward, gently, until the Marshal held the small of his back and they were flush. It was a dizzying sensation he would speak nothing of in the nights that were to come, a fleeting enchantment, a wrinkle in time that he would smooth whilst pulling upon his flesh his military garb. And not a second was wasted as the orchestra had long since begun their song, the younger man taken by storm across the dance floor, and The Fulgurian himself hadn’t the power to strike him as Cor did so. 

However, he wasn’t to be deceived, not when he had a mission to complete and he would not let the thought of a past rendezvous and muscles tangible beneath his fingertips pull him away from what was truly important: preparation for the signing of false treaty.

_For the Empire._

“I have missed you so.”

_For. The. Empire._

His words were a foreign delicacy, that much was fact, and the way he spoke seemed so genuine — but Loqi could not allow himself to appear taken, his eyes falling shut, only to open again within the same breath. He appeared coy, for all intents and purposes, lips curling into a simper as he hummed. “But, sir, we’ve just met.”

The Marshal’s sharp inhalation was so very satisfying, he could nearly  _hear_ the man’s heart pounding, though he would settle for the feel of its thrum against his palm. The wheels were spinning behind those breathtakingly blue eyes, gazing into his own as softly as they were calculatingly, leaving the General as guarded as he was set free by the other’s very presence. 

“You’re wasting your time here, don’t you think?”

“Wasting my time?” He replied ever so playfully, tilting his head before pressing impossibly close, both of them stepping to an off-time rhythm and no longer listening to the trill of strings that was meant to carry them. “Whatever do you mean?”

The grip on his waist tightened painfully, but he was hardly unaccustomed to harm’s way, his devilish smile intact — even when he felt the sting of his whining spine. If the Crownsguard holding him had been expecting a different reaction, he refused to let such a thing be known, instead leading their dance to the alcove before the balcony as though he hadn’t planned it. 

“The men who come here are jesters; they aren’t worth your trouble.”

_Don’t fall for it. This is manipulation, he wants to take you out of the operation before you even begin._

“Why, you say that as though I  _mean_  something to you.”

He hadn’t the time to react before the man’s lips had dipped to his ear, the sigh that befell it tired and worn, but it was a comfort all the same. “You’ve no idea.”

_I am such a fool._

And he was — because, in that moment, he faltered — allowing himself to be whisked onto concrete overlooking the Citadel gardens, drapes upon drapes, heavy and hiding them from curious eyes and ears alike. And he was a fool because, just the moment  _after_  his moment of faltering, he was shoved against the nearest wall — head slamming against the brick with a terrible thud, his vision taking several blinks to return from its compromised focus, the Marshal’s thick fingers digging into his collar and the flesh of his throat. 

Looking up, Loqi even had the gall to feel devastated, because those tender blues had lost their warmth and his voice was the sharp steel of a blade through his shuddering rib cage.

“ _Loqi_.”

“I’m wearing a mask, how do you know who I am?” His tone was rasp, but if there was one thing he would not lose, it was his wit; Cor had known as much, if the press of his lips into a frustrated line were any indication, but he retaliated by pulling the disguise right from his eyes — revealing them for all to see — though, upon the balcony, it was only the Marshal and he. 

“What are you  _doing_  here?”

“What do you  _think_  I’m here for?”

“Intelligence? Assassination — _a prison cell?_ ”

How he wanted to struggle, to wind his foot back the two inches it was given and swing it right between the man’s legs, but that would imply that he’d lost his nerve. “You don’t give me enough credit, Marshal.”

“This is no laughing matter. What if I hadn’t been the one to grab you? It wouldn’t have been long until someone caught wind of who you are.”

“It’s called  _‘timing,’_  you idiot, and you’ve foolishly interrupted!” A gloved finger moved to angrily poke at the man’s chest with each and every word, his patience with the elder of them running thin as he was scolded like a child, unfit to fulfill a single mission. “If that becomes reality, my imprisonment will be fault of yours.”

Cor loomed closer then, their snarling visages mere inches from each other as he spoke, voice dropping in pitch. “What makes you think I’d let you get away with whatever you’re planning? I could turn you in right now.”

The General attempted to hold back quivering flesh as he leant forward, noses bumping one another, breaths mingling and yet — his voice held every bit of malice that could oppose their amorous picture. “Go on, then.  _Do it._  Wasn’t that your plan after you had me buttered up with your lies?  _‘I have missed you so,’ ‘you’ve no idea how much you mean—’_ ”

“Those were  _not_  lies!”

“Cor...?”

Loqi had barely the time to register his own shock or the voice that called for the Marshal before lips descended onto his own, the hand that clamped around his throat had moved to the back of his neck as the other braced against the wall, effectively shielding him from sight. However, he could hardly give a  _rat’s ass_  if he was seen as his own arms took the chance to reach up and wrap around strong shoulders, foregoing his cool demeanor to step onto dress shoes several sizes larger than his own — the urgency of the unexpected kiss both staggering and revitalizing. 

“Cor? Is that you— ohh, fuck!” Lips pulled from his own with resistance, and he’d nearly followed them in a daze if not for the sharp way the man turned his head, facing whomever it was interrupting while taking the time to make sure Loqi was unseen. Though, if Niflheim’s savviest were honest, he did catch sight of blond hair and a few freckles — but he supposed that wasn’t what was important. “I-I’m sorry, Cor— Marshal, sir! Sorry—”

“Prompto, do you  _mind?_ ”

“R-Right! I— I...Noct! You’ll  _never_  guess what I just saw!” The sigh was evident in his tone and Loqi swore the boy’s swallow was nearly audible as he babbled, the sound of his speech growing weaker as the distance between he and them grew, but it was such that the distance between he and the Marshal did as well. Cor backed away from him as though he were aflame, the motion sweeping him from atop the other’s feet, and he stumbled against the stone wall in order to keep his balance. 

He didn’t need any Lucian intelligence to tell him that the man wasn’t even going to bother looking at him. 

“Go home, Loqi.”

A breath was the only count he had as The Immortal, strapping in celebratory garb, stepped over his mask — giving it not a passing glance as he walked away.

“And  _don’t_  come back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments keep me writing!


End file.
